by Sandra Seamans
Waking up with the chickens, I can get a pretty good leg-up on the goings on in our small town. Take this morning for instance, there's a body dangling from the electric pole out front of my house. Such a ghastly thing to see before my morning coffee.
I called the sheriff, but I don't think he wanted to believed me. After all, I'm seventy-three and my eyesight isn't what it used to be. Of course, when I called him about the bear last week and it turned out to be nothing but Emmett Caldwell without his shirt, I can understand him hesitating. But there’s no mistaking that body this morning. I even dug out my binoculars to get a better look, and judging from that scarlet colored nightie the body's wearing, I’d say that's Pearly Jones hanging up there.
Pearly and her husband, Joe, have been keeping folks up at night. One knock 'em down after another. Night after night. Disturbing everyone's sleep. Why, just last night, the feuding got so loud, the sheriff showed up to quiet them down. He made Pearly and Joe kiss and make up, though by the looks of things, it didn’t take. That's probably why the sheriff wasn't too happy when I called to tell him about Pearly. But what was I supposed to do? Pearly's hanging from the electric pole, I had to notify someone. The dead deserve a little respect.